The four times Eames kissed Arthur
by asil
Summary: And the first time Arthur kissed Eames. Arthur/Eames Slash, obviously.
1. The first time Eames kissed Arthur

**The first time Eames kissed Arthur, it ended violently.**

In an alley in the back of Arthur's mind, their steps echoed on the cobblestones as they escaped the enraged crowd. The forgery bled away as Eames ran. First the dress, shifting to be replaced by trousers that were so much easier to run in. Then the blonde curls shortened and darkened, the bright red lips dulled, and stubble peppered across his chin. Her personality battered against his consciousness and he had to remind himself not to fight it, getting accustomed to the character had been the entire purpose of the exercise.

The point man turned on him once they'd fled far enough into the depths of the maze; his normally slick hair disheveled and his brown eyes were alight with fury. He glared mutely, catching his breath a moment before opening his mouth to deliver a scathing reprimand.

The forger interrupted before he could speak. "You alright darling? Normally your subconscious is much more amicable." Never mind that he had provoked them, never mind all that.

"I don't suppose a little more professionalism would be too much to ask, Mr. Eames." Arthur's voice was cold, colored by the anger that glinted in his steely gaze.

"Anything for you love." Eames leered at the eye-roll he received. They both knew it was a lie, the forger would never resist the temptation to push any of Arthur's buttons that he found. He looked away from the point man, back down the alley that they had come from. The yells of the projections were getting close again, their rage echoing across the city. Arthur is still looking at him with that infuriated expression, running fingers through his hair to replace the locks that had fallen out of formation. The forger wonders if his cheeks would flush the same way if he were aroused instead of angry, if his eyes would darken to that exact shade, and if his breath would quicken to a matching pace.

"You know sweetheart, the world won't fall down if you let loose once in a while." Eames said and reached forward to yank at the other man's tie, ruining the perfect placement of the knot as he dragged him close and slammed their mouths together.

For an instant it was all teeth and lips and tongues and the taste of gunpowder, then he's being dragged away. Thousands of hands grabbing at him, tearing at him, but he didn't see them or hear their yelling. His gaze was locked on Arthur, on the eyes that were different than they'd been an instant before, still narrowed but a bit brighter. Then the point man raised the gun that's suddenly in his hand, and Eames woke in the warehouse with a smug grin and the realization that his pants were feeling way too tight.

**The second time Eames kissed Arthur he blamed it on the heat.**


	2. The second time Eames kissed Arthur

**The second time Eames kissed Arthur he blamed it on the heat.**

Dubai during the end of April was, in a word, miserable. The sun beat down, sending forth gusts of wind that sweltered across the city and sucked the moisture from even the darkest crevices. The addition of the crowd that swarmed the sidewalks made the dusty, sand covered blacktop a smothering hell.

"Give me London fog any day." Eames scowled, swiping his shirt cuff across his forehead as he jostled through the throngs of people, following well behind Cobb and his architect. Even after living in Mombasa for years, the forger still found the dry desert heat unbearable. It mushed his thoughts together, twisted them to the point where he nearly yelled out to demand that Ariadne turn the temperature down. Then he stopped, brushed his fingers across his pocket and felt the familiar shape of the gambling chip, reminding himself that the job was finished and the mark was still back at the spa resort. They were already back in reality.

Grey eyes squinted and he glanced towards Arthur. The point-man had stripped off his vest and jacket at some point, carrying them slung over his arm instead. He still managed to look professional though, with his white shirt fully buttoned and his collar folded in just the right fashion. Someone who hadn't studied him as extensively as Eames had probably wouldn't notice the sheen of sweat on his temples or the way he was pursing his lips to avoid panting in the heat.

"You feeling alright darling?" the forger tried to sound casual, but concern crept into his tone when he noticed the tired droop of Arthur's eyelids as the point man glanced towards him. Arthur nodded, the motion a little less precise than usual. He didn't display any of the normal irritation at the nickname. Heat exhaustion, Eames' mind suggested, the point man probably didn't have the kind of experience needed to handle that type of weather.

The forger halted at one of the street venders,exchanging few words as he counted out and passed over a handful of dirham. Then he hurried after the point man. He caught his arm and turned Arthur until they were facing. In the middle of the crowded sidewalk he gently brushed their lips together, feeling his chapped limps and inhaling the point man's put upon sigh. They're so close that he can smell his sweat, and the pleasant spice of his aftershave.

"Mr. Eames." The name is drawn out and the eyes that blink up at him are weary.

"Drink something would you pet?" he pressed the water bottle into Arthur's hand, "If you die here Dom will have to find another point man, and there's no way he'd be able to find a stick in the mud of your caliber in time for our next job." But the carelessness of his words did't match the worry in his eyes, and even though he moved away to give the younger man space he still watched to make sure he drank it all.

**The third time Eames kissed Arthur, he failed to see the smile Arthur gave him afterwards.**


	3. The third time Eames kissed Arthur

**The third time Eames kissed Arthur, he failed to see the smile Arthur gave him afterwards.**

"You're not wearing that." Arthur snatched the shirt from his hands and passed him another one that was, to Eames eyes, exactly identical.

"I am able to clothe myself pet," He said.

The point man raised one patronizing eyebrow. "I'm sure." he said with a faint smirk, his brown eyes looked the forger down and then back up.

Eames slipped the shirt on and arranged it so that the gun strapped to his back was hidden."Not that I mind if dressing me up is what hits your fancy." The forger tossed a wink towards the younger man. He grinned at the resulting glare, catching the tie that Arthur shoved at him. He finished dressing as the point man moved off to go over the files again.

Forging an identity in reality was different than dreaming. There were limits to how much he could change his appearance, limits to which personalities he could pull off. This new mark was especially paranoid though, he'd never be in a vulnerable place long enough for them to get in his mind. At least not without someone he trusted coming along, which was the reason for Eames' latest charade. He not only had to make friends with the mark, he also had to be let into his inner circle.

The forger fidgeted, glancing at his watch to hide his nervousness. It was nearly time. "You ready darling?"

Arthur glanced up from the table and gave a nod before reaching into his pocket for his cellphone. "Mr. Eames is heading down." He informed without bothering to identify himself to Cobb. Then he snapped the phone shut and his brown eyes pierced towards the forger. "Don't mess this up."

"Your faith in my abilities is always so heartening." Eames said sarcastically as he strolled over, picking up the new wallet with the forged I.D..

"Do I need to go over again what's at stake here?"

"No thanks sweetheart, you've nagged enough today." He said, then moved forward before Arthur could protest. "Give us a kiss for luck now." He bent over the point man and dropped a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, then Eames was across the room and out the door. He didn't see the reddish tint that appeared on the point man's cheeks, or the way he raised his hand and hovered his fingers over the spot for a moment.

**The fourth time Eames kissed Arthur, it was more of a mutual thing.  
**


	4. The fourth time Eames kissed Arthur

**The fourth time Eames kissed Arthur, it was more of a mutual thing.**

The mark had left, distracted by one of his projections for a few moments and leaving who he thought was his second hand man with the intruder. The silence stretched out across the room, until the point man shifted, gasped at the pain that shot through his ribs, and snarled, "Get a grip." For a moment Eames thought he was talking to himself, then Arthur's head raised and the forger got a clear look at the bruising on his face as he said through broken, bleeding lips, "You're slipping Mr. Eames, the eyes are wrong."

Eames sucked in a breath, turning away from him and staring at his own warped reflection in the metal sheeting on the wall until bright blue eyes stared back at him. Then he turned back to Arthur. His fingers brushed the gun that was holstered at his side, silently offering to end the pain. "You don't have to do this love, you have nothing to prove."

Arthur gave a weak, but stern shake of his head. "We can't afford to fail another job." He took a breath, hissing and cringing in pain. Eames imagined that the repeated hits had broken at least a few ribs. "Cobb and Ariadne will be done soon. I'll be fine until the kick."

"Yeah but-" Eames cut himself off. He reached out, fingers smearing in the blood that was oozing from the point man's eyebrow. Arthur's head tilted and pressed into the comfort of the touch. His dark eyes rolled up to meet the forger's gaze.

"You don't have to watch." He whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Then he was pressing forward. Arthur moved also, as much as the bindings on his wrists allowed, and Eames found that the distance between them closed far quicker than he expected. He poured all the assurance he could into the connection, so focused on offering comfort that he didn't hear the door behind him open.

**The first time Arthur kissed Eames they found out that Eames was wrong about the world not falling down.**


	5. The first time Arthur kissed Eames

**The first time Arthur kissed Eames they found out that Eames was wrong about the world not falling down.**

Arthur died and woke, clutching at his chest as if to stem the bleeding of wounds that were no longer there. The pain lingered, his nerves responding to the memory of the blade. 'Pain is in the mind.' His mantra, though since the job for Cobal he would always hear it in Mal's voice. Normally he could ignore pain and wake into the next dream level without a sound; but being shot in the head was hardly comparable to what the latest subject had done so he didn't resent the ragged sobs that were working their way up his had not been a quick death, not a simple bang and then dead like Eames' had received.

Eames, that brought his awareness to the hands that were stroking his back, to the distinct accent that was murmuring inane bits of comfort into his ear. "I'm sorry."

"Don't-" He found it surprisingly difficult to talk, his voice rough and the words choked. The forger seemed to get it anyway and drew back somewhat, hovering inches away. He didn't blame Eames anymore than he blamed himself for being distracted. Vaguely aware that the others were waking and that he should be preparing for the last kick, he sought Eames' hand and gripped it with trembling fingers. The forger allowed the contact and said nothing. Even when Arthur's grasp tightened painfully, he bit back his wince and didn't pull away. Arthur felt the pull to hurt his coworker? Friend? What did he call Eames anymore? It would be easy to twist the wrist that was already beneath his hand, to make him feel for an instant what Arthur had gone through.

Arthur yanked his hand away and took a deep, cleansing breath. He strove to don his 'point-man' mask, but he knew from the way Eames' gray eyes lit with concern that the forger could see through the cracks. The forger knew people the way Arthur knew strategy and paradoxes, could strip away the lies and witness whatever writhed beneath them.

Music swelled around them, a familiar tune played several times too slow. Eames caught Arthur by the shoulders as he tried to stand. "You've done enough."

The chuckle that bursts out tasted acidic on his tongue. "You'd rather that I sit here and dwell on it?" He doesn't need specificity in this occasion, they both know what he's talking about.

"Ignoring it doesn't help."

Arthur reached over and caught Eames' chin, digging his fingers into the flesh and hating how true his words were. "If I don't think about it, then it's no more than any other nightmare." He says, unsure who he's trying to convince. Then he shoves their lips together before the forger's expression has the chance to reveal pity.

Eames tasted like he always had during the brief contacts between them; Salty like the sunflower seeds he was always eating, sweet like the over-sugared coffee he drank all day. The point-man's fingers slide along his jaw to the back of his head and he grips his hair to keep him in place, not that Eames is trying to get away. Arthur can hear the building creaking around them, the dream collapsing since the dreamer and the architect are already kicked. Glass shatters nearby, a window probably. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, bites until he tastes Eames' blood, and doesn't care. Then he opens his eyes to the dimness of the cruise ship's lounge, seeking out the forger's gaze before he has the notion to stop himself.

A.N.: I'm terribly sorry this took so long to post. It's just that...I wasn't happy with it, I'm still not, but I felt it needed to be finished so I forced myself to post it. I apologize for the long wait, and if this end doesn't live up to expectations.


End file.
